


World’s Best Dad

by SanderRohde



Series: Patceit Fusion Fics [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: All of these tags in order of importance, Emile Picani was once Ethan Sanders, I renamed Xavier to Odie because it makes more sense to do that, M/M, posted at 1:30 in the morning on a Saturday, quarantine references, swearing (light), when most of my good writing starts existing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24088228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanderRohde/pseuds/SanderRohde
Summary: Simon is back, this time with more canon! And with almost a year of ao3 under my belt now!There is unrest in the mindpalace. Deceit and Patton meet up to discover why exactly this is the case.
Relationships: Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders & Deceit Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Series: Patceit Fusion Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738108
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. The First Investigation

**Author's Note:**

> The new version of this- complete with new canon Janus!

There was unrest in the mind palace. Both literally and metaphorically. Everyone was burning their candles at both ends and also really stressed… like really stressed. The quarantine wasn’t doing anyone any favors. 

So Thomas sat around playing video games, binging some TV, and attending virtual meetings, and also occasionally jotting down extremely rough ideas that sounded good, but looked terrible once written down. In other words, it felt like a normal day. And had felt like so for a while. 

As soon as Logan, with his tie not properly tied, his hair stupidly tangled, his shirt stained with what looked like Crofters, came downstairs for coffee, blinking rapidly and stretching, pinching his arm every few seconds, 

As soon as Roman didn’t come downstairs at all, still in mid contempt, it would seem, trying desperately to maintain his edge, his balance, his.. well, his himselfness, 

As soon as Virgil came up the stairs, headphones blaring, actually not noticing anything for once, hurriedly grabbing a cup of tea and going immediately back into his room, 

As soon as that happened, Patton got the feeling something needed to be done, so he poured a cup of coffee, with 5 sugars,two cups of milk, and a small amount of cocoa into the cup his famILY had gotten him as one of many Father’s Day presents.

It had a picture of the Earth on it, with half of it faded from use, with the little caption on it saying World’s Best Dad- Well, he sure hoped so, he needed all the luck he could get- and left the room quietly, which was quite hard for him to do. He hoped that what he was about to do was the right decision. 

————————————————————————

There was always unrest in the Mind Colosseum, as the agreed upon name was, but especially now that Janus was accepted.

They (‘Dark’ and ‘Neutral’) were all worried that he would go the way of Virgil, and simply just leave. Not that he hadn’t considered that before, but Janus simply couldn’t leave too many of his own in the dust. Besides. Virgil got to keep his room. He just sealed it off. 

These were all things going through Janus’ mind as he got to the kitchen and noticed that the only dish that was clean was his World’s Best Dad mug, which almost seemed like it wasn’t used too much, it being a duplicate of Patton’s they had copied right before Father’s Day, his only true present, but it was his favorite mug, and the ambiguous group of ragtag sides were careful not to touch it.

But anyways, god damn it, Odie. You were on dish duty, and you just… blew it off? He might need to check if that side was OK, though. He can let it slide a few times before he was that serious about it, and he knew how big each of their personal bubbles were, but he couldn’t help but think that something was off. 

Remus was writing ideas down in pieces of paper when he checked in with him, as he was worried that there was a domino effect of misery.

His World’s Best Dad cup was carefully held in his hand, his snake eye (and normal eye, for that matter) turning nervously towards the ground, looking at the crumpled paper all around him. A normal sight. 

But it still felt weird. Probably because Remus usually was up to much more energetic activities, especially on most days, except Mondays. And it wasn’t a Monday. 

It was then when it hit him. He had someone to emphasize with. Sometimes, alright, a lot of times, that person got on his nerves for being too narrow minded, but, he thought, as he sipped his coffee- most sides thought he drank black coffee. 

Remy, for one, was trying to get him into flavored coffees, and he never planned on telling him that he already knew what flavored coffee was.

In reality, he liked his coffee with caramel creamer, a shit ton of sugar (although he always had to check whether it was sugar), and a tiny bit of cacao.- well, he thought they might actually be empathetic. It might even be worse, on their side of things.  
————————————————————————  
Patton and Janus met up in the 6 feet by 6 feet square of neutral ground marked off by blue and yellow electrical and duct tapes to discuss the best course of action. They both added valuable tidbits of information and planning that the other couldn’t have known, and thought of more of their similarities when they spotted each other’s mugs in both of their possessions. 

“Hmm. So it was probably fate that brought us here. And way too many sticky notes.”

“Yeah, I agree that there should be more sticky notes. And more space. I guess, if we really wanted, we could create a room?”

Now, they both had a room for that sort of thing, separate, tucked away, covered wall to wall in push-pins,notable pictures, and memorabilia, but those were private. 

“No, this is OK. Now, I felt something off. What do we need to do?”

Patton looked pointedly at Janus. He pointed to a sticky note, carefully scrawled in a steady cursive, Janus’ handwriting, amended by himself in light blue pen. It was ripped, the corners were folded over, and it looked to be old, and like it had fallen out of one of their pockets. 

It read, “D: Reminder of plan BD as in Ballroom Dancing. P:Ok, kiddo, don’t be so cryptic, y’know we’ll need this again soon. D: How soon? P: I dunno, but we usually find things when we need to, so…” 

They shared a look. A sense of clarity befell them. It was still not enough to find out all of the details(it had lots of holes) but going to the ballroom might jog more of their memories about what exactly it was that made them think ‘Oh! So that… that is a good plan.’

“We have a ballroom. I can invite you to the other side, if you’ll take my hand, and let me lead you there.” 

Patton took Janus’ extended hand, and they got to chatting, and a lot of it. By the time they were a third of the way through chatting about their lives, they had gotten to the ballroom. 

“What should we put on? I want to find something that fits both of our tastes equally.”

“I think I have just the thing.”

The soft but hard, bass-boosted tones of newer Caravan Palace started playing, and Janus put his gloved hands on Patton’s and spun him around, then continued the step touch step touch spin, shift pattern until both of them felt that they needed to lie down. 

“The sticky said nothing about this part of plan BD. I mean… y’know what I mean. And I dunno if either of us has enough energy to conjure up a pile of pillows to sleep on, so brace yourself, for tired, angry, utterly annoying compasses. Although I am kind of wondering…”

Both Patton and Janus held each other’s hands as they passed out. A nice greenish glow enveloped the unconscious pair, and then two had become one. They stare down at their hands when they finally wake up. Since when did either of them wear mocha-stained white leather biker gloves and a sailor hat with a smiley face emoji on it? Or were one side instead of two? 

Their World’s best Dad mugs had also fused into one perfectly balanced,probably-would-be-Remy-approved, super mocha substance. As the fusion picked up this super mocha, a voice came closer to the ballroom, and Emile walked in. 

“I am sorry if I was intruding… I needed a piano that wasn’t Roman’s. Y’know how Roman is about things… Wait, Simon, is that you?”

The fusion, now known as Simon, smiled and pushed their pink tinted round glasses further up the bridge of their nose. 

“Simon. Simon. Hmm… yes, it rings a bell. As to if it’s my name, we do believe it is. Thanks for jogging our memory, E.”

Emile looked at Simon again and shook his head teasingly. 

“Call me Dr. Picani. I haven’t gone by E in years.”

Then Emile recalled when Simon was last in existence, and wondered why exactly they fused this time. It would have had to have been life or death. 

As Emile sat down to play his favorite piano piece, Claire De Lune, on the ballroom piano (the Caravan Palace album had already all been played, and the amp disconnected) Simon walked over to try to slightly spook the therapist, and also to ask a burning question they were sure E., and only E., would truly have the answers to.  
Emile is slightly spooked. He yells ‘ah!’ And it echoes off the walls a bit. He is a good sport. Even if he wasn’t scared, he’d act like he was. 

Then Simon asks, 

“There is a disturbance here. It just feels off. Which means that we should be able to tell why. But we don’t, as we saw our famILY unhappy. It only really hit us when we saw Logan with oh-so-terribly matted hair, glasses askew, tie not on correctly at all, because when Logan’s like that, we need to drive Thomas’ common sense.”

Emile looks-well,in between like he’s trying to concentrate and keep his cool at the same time. His fingertips touch the next few notes of Clare de Lune, and he turns his head towards Simon’s. 

“I remember that you definitely needed a therapist last time you fused. I can tell this will be the case again, as, if I remember correctly, Thomas… well, he won’t listen to you in the right ways. And if he hears you, he’ll hear something akin to ‘the sky is blue, so now we do,’ which is good sentiment, but largely oblivious nonsense, especially now. Exercise is good, though, but I digress. Either way, I am, as I was the first time, your loyal fusion therapist, and translator, if you’ll let me.”


	2. Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sponsored by Simon!!!!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a bit more free time now!   
> Yay!!!!

“That’d be nice, yes. Thanks, E. Will you, can you figure out what’s off about the mindscape right now, or at least help me with that?”

Emile looked towards Simon. 

“Uh… yeah. I have a job, but I can clear my schedule?”

Simon looked back at Emile, and shook his head. 

“You need to get back to doing your job, E. We can deal.”

Emile looked back towards Simon. Of course he would think that. They literally needed to maintain their jobs or something terrible would happen. 

Emile carefully looked back towards Simon. 

“I have never, and will never be you. I’m a figment, not a side. My job isn’t essential to Thomas.”

Simon wrinkled his brow. 

“But we don’t know what would happen if you stopped your routine. And we don’t want to risk finding out. Your shift goes until four on Wednesdays, right? See you then. Make sure to wear something nice! I hear that pink is all the rage!”

The phone rang. 

“Excuse me while I take this…”

“Take all the time you want, E.”

“Hello… Dr. Picani’s office...oh! You want an iced coffee! I can get you that delivered!... yeah I’m sure…I am in the middle of something… yeah, babe, you don’t have to crash the new car… I had to ask Roman to imagine a new new one the last time we got a new car… no really, remember that?... no, gurl, you take a nap.”

Call ended. 

“Remy, right? You’re lucky to be dating him.”

Emile blushed. 

“Thank you! I think he is the bee's knees as well!”

Simon looked back over. 

“Perfect slang use, E.!”

Emile seemed ready to punch Simon, if Simon would let ‘em. 

“Thank you. And I don’t go by E. anymore because it’s short for Ethan. I don’t like the name. Reminds me too much of… a friend I knew. Also because E. is only properly used as a term for Nate, so, if you need Nate, please ask, but I don’t think that’s the case at all. I don’t think you need Nate. At least not in the same way you think you did.”

“Really? Well I need to check in on my-“

“Yeah you don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated Simon songs  
> Lonely Lonely by Feist  
> Ilomilo by Billie Eilish

**Author's Note:**

> And now, the weather 
> 
> Caravan Palace- April
> 
> Claire De Lune- Debussy


End file.
